


(In)Compatible

by yozra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 01:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20106760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yozra/pseuds/yozra
Summary: It all started with a frank question from Konoha, a simple suggestion from Kozume, and Bokuto’s sage words of practicality that left Akaashi stumped and speechless.





	(In)Compatible

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *gets an idea for a KuroAka fic* *plans the outline* *watches the story grow increasingly angsty* Can there be no KuroAka without the angst?! D:
> 
> Muse: *throws idea out of the window* _Challenge accepted_.

“Are you still hung up on Bokuto?”  
  
Akaashi blinked up from his beef bowl.   
  
He and Konoha were sitting side by side at the counter of a cheap restaurant chain, a common choice for lunch when the decision-making was left to Konoha who was currently wolfing down the remainder of his almost-finished bowl (not only did they both work at Shimbashi but their buildings were on the same street; lunch together was a regularly scheduled affair).  
  
Having known Konoha since starting high school, Akaashi was used to his unexpected change in topic, especially when Konoha felt the need to dispense an opinion normally contained within his astute looks and nonchalant hums. Initially his sempai’s behaviour gave the impression that he didn’t care, but Akaashi knew it was filled with doubt and judgement and – buried deep underneath – concern.  
  
Generally these jumps between topics had a relatable theme, no matter how loose. This time, Akaashi couldn’t find a reasonable association between their talk on upcoming business trips and his past involvement with Bokuto.  
  
It must have been a side effect of the summer heat.  
  
“Excuse me—?”  
  
“Are you still hung up on Bokuto.” Konoha punctuated each word more clearly with an undertone of: _You_ _heard me, why are you making me repeat myself_.  
  
“Of course not.” Akaashi’s response was quick, with an added: _I believe you already know the answer so I’m not sure why you feel the need to ask._  
  
“You’ve been in five relationships that lasted less than a month followed by three years of zero dating.” _Because you haven’t dated anyone seriously since Bokuto._  
  
“I wasn’t aware you took an interest in my love life.” _I’m not sure how my love life is your business – or anyone else’s for that matter._  
  
“Not just me – Saru asked for an update the other day, Komi started making you a profile for some dating sites, and even Washio’s asking his colleagues if they can recommend someone.” _It’s actually all of our business, we want to see you happy._  
  
Akaashi couldn’t tend to the tingle in his right hand without putting down both the bowl and chopsticks, and doing so to rub away the feeling would only prove to Konoha a point, although Akaashi wasn’t exactly sure what that point was.  
  
Instead he tightened his grip on the chopsticks and said, “There’s nothing wrong with being single, and I’m perfectly happy.” He then shovelled rice into his mouth.  
  
As he chewed slowly, he shot a side glance to see the end of an eyeroll which seemed to say _I know that. _“You’re working too much overtime and don’t go out enough to meet people – and don’t even think about saying it’s because you’re a new recruit, that only applies to newbies in their first year and you’re in your third.” Konoha’s returning glance was narrower and sly. “Honestly, Akaashi, your single life doesn’t look so happy.”  
  
Maybe Konoha was right. But Akaashi found his life content enough to maintain the current standard. “Each to their own, Konoha-san.”  
  
Konoha set his empty bowl on the higher counter for collection and pushed himself up off the chair. “I need to get back, I’ve got a meeting. See you next Wednesday?”  
  
“Tuesday or Thursday would be more preferable, I may have to leave the office on Wednesday.”  
  
“All right, I’ll message you.” Konoha slung his rucksack over his shoulder. “By the way, Komi’s giving you a month before he starts posting up your profile, so unless you want to be bombarded by calls from strangers you might want to buy yourself more time by showing him you’re making an effort with this dating thing.”  
  
Konoha strode out leaving Akaashi stranded to deal with this new piece of information alone.

During Akaashi’s second year at university, he and Bokuto finally did what everyone had been wishing they would do – get together.  
  
And when they did, their world – well, it remained the same. There were no fireworks or earth-shattering revelations, no changes to their relationship except for the label and additional displays of physical affection – a nice bonus if a touch exhausting at times, but Akaashi had spent two years learning to keep up with Bokuto’s stamina, and just as effective as it had been for his matches, it had been equally effective for his sex life.  
  
However, everything only appeared to be the same. Changes happened, gradual and unnoticeable, seeping past their erased line of their friendship that once firmly stated what was and wasn’t acceptable between them.  
  
An example in Bokuto’s case was that he became more reliant on Akaashi to undertake the undesirable tasks – small and easy to tackle at first until the requests became bigger and more time consuming, increasing almost to the point of laziness. As a result, Akaashi’s meticulous nature made him overbearing.  
  
An example in Akaashi’s case was that he became more dependent on Bokuto to offer optimistic words for his anxious nature – bursts of encouragement turning into strings of reassurances turning into lengthy speeches to boost confidence, increasing almost to the point of addiction. As a result, Bokuto’s kind nature made him overprotective.  
  
Each made substitutions in areas the other lacked, but what should have been temporary crutches to help grow past or live alongside their shortcomings became permanent pillars set up one after another, slanting and tottering from bearing the full weight of their destructive habits.  
  
Their relationship withstood nine months before caving in.  
  
The agreement to take a step back and redraw the line was mutual, and after some discussions, and then some space, their friendship was balanced again.  
  
This experience made Akaashi question the idea of compatibility and he became exceptionally particular about characteristics of potential partners. It was only natural. Everyone – including him and Bokuto – had believed they were soulmates, two halves of a whole, and everyone – including him and Bokuto – turned out to be wrong.   
  
If it didn’t work out between the one person who was supposedly perfect for him, what qualities should he truly be searching for in a partner?   
  
And how would a relationship ever work out with anyone else?

Akaashi checked his watch as the elevator – occupied by four other people including himself – descended from the seventh floor.   
  
Five-forty. Finishing work and leaving the office ten minutes after the official time was impressively early, especially when he was used to working past eight. Part of tonight’s decision to abandon his work for the weekend was brought about by his manager leaving early to attend a meal with the other departmental heads.  
  
The other part was to prove a point to Konoha (and thereby the rest of his old team).  
  
However, when he stepped out and started crossing the spacious reception area, his echoing steps slowed to a stop as he realised he didn’t know what to do with the extra hours. He supposed he could go to a bookshop, maybe the one at Tokyo station with their more varied selection, although in this weather it would be better to take the train up than walk – or should he brave the humidity, he had been getting very little in terms of exercise recently—  
  
“Oh.”  
  
He recognised the man in his line of sight, standing at the centre of the room checking his phone, trademark hair trimmed shorter and forcibly tamed with product so it was borderline acceptable for the stoic business scene of Japan.   
  
Kuroo Tetsurou.  
  
As if sensing Akaashi’s stare, Kuroo glanced up and around, at first looking past and then returning his focus onto him.   
  
Akaashi bowed his head.  
  
As expected, Kuroo began walking up to him, and when he was within earshot said, “I didn’t know you worked here. Nice place.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware you worked in this area as well, Kuroo-san.”  
  
“I’m still at Shinjuku, just dropped in to see a client. Are you getting off work?”  
  
Akaashi hesitated before answering. “Yes.”  
  
“I’m looking for somewhere that does ramen,” Kuroo said casually, eyeing up Akaashi’s reaction; his gaze was doubly sharp when his fringe no longer hid his right eye. “Know anywhere decent?”  
  
Akaashi doubted Kuroo was telling the truth. He was probably making up an excuse so as to have Akaashi keep him company for a quick Friday night drink. Still, even after all these years, Akaashi felt an obligation to humour his sempai.   
  
“Please follow me.”  
  
That was how he ended up sitting at another counter, squashed up against the corner with a bowl of miso ramen, a glass of beer, a plate of gyoza, and an old rival beside him loudly slurping noodles.  
  
They had already exhausted their straggling topics on the businessman life and resorted to concentrating on their food. It was interesting how rarely he saw the man even though they ran in the same circles, and despite their strong ties to Bokuto and Kozume, he couldn’t ever remember spending time by themselves.  
  
“Not long to go before Bo’s big move.”  
  
Kuroo was referring to Bokuto’s move halfway across the world in order to play for his new volleyball team. When Akaashi first heard the news he feared the language and cultural barrier, but then he reminded himself that Bokuto’s personality would smash through any obstacle, likely dragging everyone else into his own bright and enthusiastic world.  
  
It wasn’t long indeed. A month or so to—  
  
Suddenly Akaashi discovered the missing link in Konoha’s conversation and he mentally sighed at his sempai’s (and sempais’) concern.  
  
“I’m very happy for him,” Akaashi added, realising Kuroo’s silence was an indicator for him to reply. “His skills deserve to be fully recognised by the world.”  
  
Kuroo snorted into his glass of half-empty beer.  
  
Akaashi paused, noodles left hanging off his chopsticks as he turned to him. “Did I say something amusing?”   
  
“Just thought you haven’t changed much.” Kuroo put down his drink. “You sure you don’t want to go after him?”  
  
Abandoning his mouthful by lowering his chopsticks and returning the noodles back to the soup, Akaashi said, “Why would I go after him?”  
  
Kuroo gave a shrug. “I always imagined you two would get back together.”   
  
Akaashi frowned. “Did Bokuto-san mention something?”  
  
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t.”  
  
This was one of the things that irked Akaashi about Kuroo – his deliberately ambiguous answers.  
  
“I have no desire to restart what we ended, regardless of what Bokuto-san may or may not have said,” Akaashi said with finality. “And with this confirmed availability and opening to pursue him, perhaps now would be an opportune time to make your move.”  
  
Kuroo chuckled and raised an arm to flag down a worker. “Let me guess – Kenma told you.” One of the cooks came up and Kuroo ordered a bowl of rice.  
  
Kuroo was right, Kozume had been the one to reveal Kuroo’s interest in Bokuto, but only after he and Bokuto had separated, and long after his feelings had settled.  
  
“I made my move after I graduated high school,” Kuroo continued; he grabbed the bowl offered to him with a quick thanks, then pushed the rice into his soup. “I moved on.”  
  
Akaashi felt a twinge in his chest, feeling almost responsible for preventing Kuroo from confessing, especially knowing what Bokuto had mentioned during the earlier days of their relationship – that Kuroo had been urging him to tell Akaashi about his feelings for years.  
  
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Kuroo said reading his mind, although he didn’t look in Akaashi’s direction. “I don’t regret anything I did. Or didn’t do.”  
  
Another blanket of silence fell over them and Akaashi resumed eating, sucking up the noodles with barely an audible slurp, chewing on thoughts that had yet to take shape and swallowing them down before they formed.  
  
“What is it that you look for in a partner?”  
  
Akaashi surprised himself with the question; he reasoned it was his desire to know what part of Bokuto’s personality drew Kuroo to him.  
  
“Someone who slurps their ramen like they enjoy eating it.”  
  
Whatever sympathy Akaashi felt burst with the jibe. He didn’t bother to correct Kuroo about the wrong interpretation and they spent the remainder of their meal in quiet.

* * * * * *

“What about Kuro?”  
  
Akaashi faltered in his button pressing and a monster’s blow hacked off a huge chunk of his character’s life bar.  
  
There were generally two problems with having Kozume as a confidant.  
  
Problem One: When Akaashi had an issue he needed to discuss outside of pixelated messages or digitalised voices – basically a raw conversation where he could gauge expressions and speak spontaneously (or as spontaneously as his over-analytical brain would allow) without having to a) think, type, rethink, retype, delete and restart this message-writing process, or b) stare at a glitchy screen while they attempted a video call – he had to go and visit Kozume, or ask Kozume to come round.  
  
He didn’t like doing either. Because this meant having to step into Kozume’s bubble or drag him out of said bubble, and Akaashi always imagined a green HP bar above his head, depleting gradually with every minute Akaashi was there for the former, and more rapidly for the latter.   
  
(Apple pie gave an additional buffer of twenty to forty minutes depending on the brand, but this wasn’t cumulative per pie; Akaashi always bought a box anyway.)  
  
However, every few weeks on the occasional Friday or Saturday night, Kozume would invite Akaashi round. Sometimes Akaashi watched him play as they caught up, other times he would join in and they would play in silence bar gaming commands and the odd comment or two.  
  
Today – a Friday two weeks after the ‘Sempai Incident’ – fell on one of those days, which meant Kozume’s HP drainage was slower than normal (plus there was the additional buffer) and Akaashi could talk about his predicament at length.  
  
Problem Two: Every word Kozume threw at him was a critical hit.  
  
Akaashi mentioned Konoha’s conversation and his sempais’ meddling with the thought that Kozume would be on his side.  
  
Now he wasn’t sure why he had thought bringing up the topic would be a good idea.  
  
“What about him?” Akaashi asked, smashing buttons to swing maniacally at an oncoming wave of skeletons.  
  
“He’s free.”  
  
“For?”  
  
“Dating.”  
  
“No.”   
  
“Why?”  
  
One missed strike and his character crumpled to the floor; Akaashi threw himself back onto the sofa.  
  
It wasn’t that Akaashi had never entertained the thought – it would have been strange not to. Kuroo had a certain charisma about him and he was certainly attractive. But the chance meeting the other day only confirmed what he already knew—  
  
“We’re incompatible.”  
  
The ramen comment wasn’t what made him decide, though that did contribute to the list of reasons. Akaashi had never acted on the idea simply because he found too many of Kuroo’s traits to be undesirable or irritating.  
  
Kozume hummed.   
  
Akaashi knew that sound. It wasn’t the usual hum of sounding interested but concealing indifference, it was three layers of interested over indifferent over doubt – in this case, doubt over Akaashi’s last comment being a convincing argument.  
  
Kozume paused the game, hunched over his phone and started typing. “Pizza?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Topping?”  
  
“Your choice.”  
  
“Continue playing?”  
  
“I’ll sit out.”  
  
Another few minutes of typing then Kozume stuffed his phone into the gap between cushion and armrest, picking up the controller to resume the game; crashes and explosions filled the room once more.  
  
A chime from the door twenty minutes later had Kozume pausing the game a second time to skulk off and answer. Akaashi checked for new messages during this time (there were none) and shifted in his chair when he heard distant murmurs grow louder.  
  
“It’s Kuro,” Kozume said when he walked through, although the announcement wasn’t necessary when Akaashi could already see Kuroo from behind the shorter’s slouch.  
  
Akaashi wondered if Kuroo came round on a whim or because Kozume invited him.  
  
“You sure know how to spend your Friday nights,” Kuroo said, a neutral comment neither critical nor sarcastic, and he dropped into the empty space in the middle; Akaashi shuffled closer to the end to leave a decent-sized gap between them. “Mind if I have a go?”  
  
“Please do,” Akaashi offered. “I’m taking a break.”  
  
Akaashi watched them play (Kuroo was far better at destroying enemies than he was) until another chime forced Kozume into pausing the game a third time.  
  
“Food’s here,” Kozume said as he picked up his wallet from the coffee table.  
  
“What did you get?” Kuroo asked. His phone had already replaced his controller, and he was busy typing away.  
  
Kozume stared down at him. “I didn’t order anything for you.”  
  
Kuroo looked up. “But you’re willing to share because I’m your best friend.”  
  
“You could order something yourself.”  
  
“Or you could let me share yours.”  
  
They entered a staring contest.  
  
Kozume folded with a huff. “I’ll order another pizza.”  
  
“Thank you – love you too!” Kuroo called as Kozume disappeared out of the room.  
  
_What about Kuro?_  
  
Akaashi kept his eyes on the screen so as not to stare at Kuroo as he pondered. If they were dating and alone in a room like this, what would they be doing?  
  
Kuroo would probably be doing what he was doing now, typing away on his phone except – with the exchange that took place between him and Kozume, Akaashi doubted they would be sitting as they were now. Rather, Kuroo would probably be in a position that was more affectionate, his feet – no, his head on Akaashi’s lap. Or maybe curling up as closely to his side as possible so Akaashi was squashed into the corner of the sofa.  
  
This scene required him to amend their activities. Akaashi would likely be the one on his phone and Kuroo would be watching, prodding and teasing to get his attention.  
  
“Kuroo-san, you like it when other people spoil you or have their attention on you, don’t you.”  
  
Kuroo stopped typing, keeping still as he processed the remark. “Is that an observation or are you asking me—”  
  
“Do you also like it when others are similarly affectionate towards you?”  
  
At that question Kuroo dropped his arms down onto his lap and stared up at the ceiling. “I like it when people do what they feel comfortable doing.”  
  
“But should you have the choice between being with or without the affection?”  
  
“Then I’d take with.”  
  
It was as Akaashi had thought – the answer struck him out as a candidate (not that his name was on the list in the first place) (not that he wanted his name on the list in the first place). He remembered the many times Bokuto complained about him being cold just because he wouldn’t cuddle up to the man.  
  
“Any more questions?”  
  
Akaashi thought for a moment. “No. Thank you.”  
  
“No problem.”   
  
Kuroo resumed playing around on his phone, Akaashi watched the paused screen, and Kozume walked in carrying their pizza.

* * * * * *

“_Akaashi, come up here!_ ”  
  
Akaashi smiled and shook his head at Bokuto’s request, which earned him a pout that was quickly replaced with an indecipherable yell when Komi joined him.  
  
It had already been three hours since the start of Bokuto’s farewell party, and for the last half an hour Akaashi had been sitting by himself at the other end of his table, watching the huddle by the karaoke machine now consisting of Bokuto, Yamamoto and Komi with their arms around each other sharing a mic while Oikawa tried to pry away the one gripped in Iwaizumi’s hands (who thankfully had enough sense to turn it off, unlike Oikawa earlier who made everyone wince with the screeching audio feedback). He was content to sit to the side (unlike Kozume who had given an excuse and made his escape), and though he was finding the evening entertaining, the thought of Bokuto leaving tomorrow tainted his enjoyment somewhat.   
  
“Thought I’d find you in the corner.”  
  
Akaashi didn’t need to look to know who the speaker was, another two weeks having passed since he met him at Kozume’s gaming get-together, but he turned to him anyway out of politeness, seeing Kuroo slip into the spare seat opposite with a full glass of beer and his face reddened from alcohol.  
  
“You’re not gonna go up there?” Kuroo asked with a slight slur, nodding to the front of the room.  
  
“Do you really require an answer?”  
  
Kuroo snorted, shaking his head; the way he did it alerted Akaashi that he wasn’t doing it in answer to his question.  
  
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Kuroo said, grabbing Akaashi’s full attention. “So I was pouring my heart out to Kenma the other day about how even though I live in a region with thirty-eight million other people I can’t find a single good match, and he came out with something pretty interesting.”  
  
Akaashi took a sip of his beer, guessing the general gist of what Kozume might have said and the direction in which this conversation was heading.  
  
“And then I talked to Bo cause I tell him everything and he said something else pretty interesting.”  
  
Akaashi put down his glass. “Anecdotes have greater impact when you embellish them with details, Kuroo-san.”  
  
Kuroo leaned forward, his grin too white and hard around the edges. “I’m going for audience participation. Try and guess what Kenma said.”  
  
Akaashi lowered his hands under the table and onto his lap, and gently began kneading his ring and little fingers of his right hand.  
  
“I assume Kozume suggested to you something similar to what he suggested to me. That we should consider dating.”  
  
There was a flash of emotion across Kuroo’s face, and Akaashi wanted to say he looked impressed.  
  
“Correct. But Kenma said you wouldn’t be interested. So I told Bo what Kenma told me about what you’d told him.”  
  
This sentence confirmed Akaashi was also inebriated as it took several seconds to understand what Kuroo meant. “What did Bokuto-san say?”  
  
Kuroo shook his head firmly. “I told you, audience participation. You’ll have to ask him yourself.” He pushed himself up. “Just so you know, I’m not against the idea.”  
  
With a swig of his drink, Kuroo began to walk away.  
  
“It wouldn’t work—” Akaashi called out; his words caught Kuroo and reeled him back in so they were facing each other again.  
  
“How come?”  
  
“As I also said to Kozume – we’re incompatible.”  
  
The air between them soured – Akaashi could almost taste it. Or perhaps that was the taste of beer going stale in his mouth.  
  
“If you’re brushing me off with that excuse before you’ve even tried, I’m willing to agree with you.”  
  
Kuroo walked off towards the main stage, knocking into a chair along the way and stumbling around it. Bokuto caught sight of him and beckoned him over, grabbing him by his shoulders when they were close enough.  
  
Kuroo’s final word didn’t sit well in Akaashi’s stomach (or again, that may have been the beer). But he tried to find solace in the fact that his assessment was right as he looked down at his clenched hands.

“That was an amazing night!”  
  
Akaashi was seated next to Bokuto at the furthest end of the station platform, watching people gather in front of them as they waited for their last trains to arrive. There had been more members to their group using this central line – Komi and Washio, Hinata, Tsukishima – but Bokuto suddenly announced he needed the bathroom and shoved his bag onto Akaashi, and Akaashi told them not to wait up, keeping an eye on the electric board counting down the trains to the last one.  
  
Akaashi continued to keep his eyes ahead, though he smiled at Bokuto’s enthusiasm. “It was quite the party,” he agreed.  
  
“Thanks again, Akaashi! You’re the best!”  
  
Akaashi turned his head at the gratitude, finding Bokuto beaming at him.  
  
“I only made the reservation, Bokuto-san.”  
  
“But we wouldn’t have had a great time if you hadn’t!” Bokuto’s shoulders sagged. “Sorry we didn’t get to talk though.”  
  
“We talk regularly enough as it is,” Akaashi reminded.  
  
“Yeah, but I wanted to really _talk_, you know? It’s the last time we’ll be able to do that face to face.”  
  
“It’s not as though we won’t see each other again.” Akaashi checked the time. “And we still have a few minutes before your last train. Was there anything in particular you wished to talk about?”  
  
Bokuto leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs and propping his head back onto his hands, staring up at the corrugated ceiling. “I’m off tomorrow.”  
  
With a nod, Akaashi turned to face the tracks again. “Yes, you are.”  
  
“Halfway across the world.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“Can we meet up before my flight tomorrow? I mean, before the airport? They put my flight back a few hours and I’ve got a little more time.”  
  
Akaashi looked up in surprise. “Of course we can.”  
  
Bokuto straightened up in his seat, turning to Akaashi. “Great! I’ll message you the time and place later.”  
  
Akaashi looked down at his hands, an unspoken pressure from Bokuto’s anticipating stare pushing him down, down—  
  
“Have you ever thought about us trying again?”  
  
His composure cracked.  
  
What was Bokuto asking? If they should try again? If Akaashi would join him? Less than twenty-four hours before he jetted off to start a new life in another country?  
  
Akaashi had already sorted through his emotions – packed the fond ones away, threw everything else out – but he could feel the seams of the closed box tearing under the weight of the question and – what would happen if he opened it now, would he grab everything inside and follow Bokuto onto the plane—  
  
He took a deep breath, allowed time for his common sense to slather on reason and seal the fissure. Bokuto may have matured since they dated – matured considerably since they graduated – but his core remained the same; if he were to ask a question, he would do so directly.  
  
And as he smoothed out the creases of his nerves, Akaashi reminded himself he didn’t need to be afraid of reopening his past to look through what once was, because fond memories were all that they were.  
  
“No.” His answer sounded loud in the night air. “I don’t believe age or experience would right the failures of our first attempt.”  
  
During the silence of waiting for Bokuto’s response, Akaashi knew his words matched the decision he had made long ago.  
  
“Same here,” Bokuto said, the volume of his voice turned down, and Akaashi glanced over to see a small smile. “But I don’t regret giving us a shot.”  
  
“It was better to obtain the answers to our unresolved questions,” Akaashi agreed. “And we understand each other better because of it.”  
  
“Then why not Kuroo?”  
  
Akaashi drew a large breath; he should have known what was coming. “I have to cross-examine every answer he gives because I can never take them at face value, his jokes are insinuating and provocative, neither of which I find humorous or clever, and anyone younger he considers to be inexperienced and treats them as though they were a child.”  
  
An announcement for the arrival of Bokuto’s train had Bokuto pushing himself up onto his feet.  
  
“What about his good points?”  
  
Akaashi threaded his fingers together.   
  
“You could say he’s reliable,” Akaashi started slowly. “And he’s certainly intelligent, although that could instantly switch over to shrewdness so I’m not sure it counts as a positive trait—”  
  
The train’s horn blared, a gust of air blew hair into his eyes.  
  
“And?” Bokuto urged louder to compete with the noise.  
  
Akaashi didn’t feel the same compulsion to compete. If anything he hoped the sound would drown out his voice. “And… I suppose he has a certain air of calm about him. He’s considerate of how others feel and doesn’t pressure onto them his opinions, or force them into speaking or acting out of their will – patience, then, would naturally be a trait attributed to him.”  
  
The train ground to a halt, opening its doors, and people poured out with as many shuffling forward waiting to push in.  
  
“But Akaashi—”  
  
His gaze sidled onto Bokuto to find him grinning down, energy ramped up so as not to be beaten by the noise, or the crowds, or the pinch of apprehension mingled in his excitement over his new adventure.  
  
“It’s funny, isn’t it?”  
  
Akaashi cocked his head a fraction, so small anyone else would have missed it.  
  
“All the traits you described are opposites of mine.”  
  
It took five seconds for the meaning of those words to sink in and register, five more for Akaashi to shoot up and chase after him, calling out his name with an unspoken demand he clarify, and they all added to a second too late as the doors shut on him just one step away, Bokuto waving at him through the other side of the window, his smile bright and blinding as the train gradually pulled him out of the station.

* * * * * *

Literally minutes after his train departed the previous night Bokuto messaged and instructed Akaashi to meet him at ten by the owl statue in Ikebukuro, which was where Akaashi stood now, wondering what further advice the older would impart before his departure.  
  
He rechecked their chat and the message sent to Bokuto asking his whereabouts; it remained unread.   
  
“You were invited too, huh.”  
  
Akaashi looked up at the voice he had been hearing a lot of this past month. “Oh – good morning, Kuroo-san.” He gave the yawning man with hair sticking wildly out a once over, thought about commenting on his appearance and thought better of it. “I wasn’t aware Bokuto-san invited you as well.”  
  
“Yeah, sorry to be the third wheel,” Kuroo rumbled, voice thick from the cocktail of alcohol, karaoke and lack of sleep. “Take it he’s being late as usual. Let’s hope it won’t happen for his flight.”  
  
The phone in Akaashi’s hand vibrated – two, three, four times.  
  
“Excuse me,” Akaashi said, opening up his list of chats and finding the number four attached to Bokuto’s name. He opened up their conversation, scrolled up past the three owl stamps that went from ‘owl the best!’ to ‘spread your wings!’ to a simple ‘hoot hoot!’ to the first single line of text sent.  
  
_Good luck! See you when I come back!_  
  
Akaashi began to type a message to say how that wasn’t a sensible response to his question when he heard, “Seems like we’ve been set up.”  
  
He looked up with a frown and Kuroo showed Akaashi his phone screen – a photograph of Bokuto surrounded by friends, an impressive group comprising of (almost-)full members from the Fukurodani volleyball team and a number of graduates from other schools including Nekoma, Karasuno and Aoba. Behind them was a large glass window and a plane taking off.  
  
“He told me his flight changed,” Akaashi said dumbly.  
  
Kuroo scrolled down so Akaashi could read the additional comment.  
  
_Enjoy your date!_  
  
Akaashi glanced up. “What does he mean by that?”  
  
Kuroo turned his phone back round and squinted at the message. “I’m no wordsmith, but I reckon... enjoy your date.”  
  
Akaashi watched Kuroo pocket his phone.  
  
“Can’t fault Bo for trying. We should call it a day, we’re not gonna make it to the airport in time.”  
  
With a halfhearted wave, Kuroo turned his back to him.  
  
Akaashi recalled Bokuto’s words last night. He had also ruminated over them on the cramped ride to his station, during the unsteady walk back home, while he soaked in the lukewarm bath, as he lay wide awake on the bed.  
  
Maybe he had been too hasty in his conclusion.  
  
“Kuroo-san.”  
  
Kuroo stopped and looked over his shoulder.  
  
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”  
  
The question had Kuroo turning fully to face Akaashi. There wasn’t the trademark smirk, no sharpened gaze, no straightening his posture to make himself appear taller.  
  
He just looked... tired.  
  
(And hungover. Likely eighty percent of the tiredness could be blamed on last night and the alcohol lingering in his bloodstream.)  
  
“I thought I wasn’t your type.”  
  
How many relationship opportunities had Akaashi let pass by, that could have become perfect after days – and dare he say months, and years – of being together, all so that he could await for one that was already perfect, which he should have known from past experience didn’t exist? Since when had he become so spoilt, expectant for an outcome already ripened in his hands without doing any of the hard work required?  
  
Akaashi almost joined his hands behind his back, but abandoned the move halfway. “You’re not. And I know I’m not yours.”  
  
He waited for a response. When he received none, he pressed on.  
  
“But we could become each other’s types by changing our misconceptions and putting in the effort to make the relationship succeed. Don’t people often say the product of what you nurture yourself tastes the sweetest?”  
  
Kuroo’s look went from tired to blank.  
  
Akaashi quickly continued. “What I am trying to say is, I would like to give us a chance. Therefore, I want to ask you again – Kuroo-san, would you like to go on a date with me?”  
  
Kuroo ran a hand through his hair. It clicked in Akaashi’s head that the style was back to the haphazard mess of his student days, which oddly brought him comfort. After all, it was during that period in his life that they had seen and spoken to each other most, and contained the best memories.  
  
“Do I get to decide where we go?”  
  
Akaashi wasn’t sure whether laughing at the question would be considered offensive, so he kept his mouth firmly closed.  
  
He wasn’t sure what would happen. But he was certain of one thing – the flutter of excitement in his stomach.  
  
“Please lead the way.”

Akaashi was already regretting his choice in allowing Kuroo to decide the location of their date as he stood still with his arm awkwardly stuck out to the side, glaring at Kuroo who was chuckling away while taking photographs with his phone.   
  
He then glanced at the feathered creature perched comfortably on his forearm, the same species as that of his surname and according to the workers the friendliest owl in the cafe.  
  
“Kuroo-san, the lengths you go to for your own personal amusement never ceases to amaze me,” Akaashi said flatly.  
  
“It’s an experiment, Akaashi – animals tell you a lot about a person depending on how well they get on.” Kuroo’s reasoning was accompanied by another camera shutter sound; Akaashi was sure he just wanted blackmail material (as if he didn’t own a collection already).  
  
“Are you saying you’re basing our compatibility on how real-life versions of our high school mascots behave towards us—”  
  
Kuroo wasn’t even listening, going off to speak with one of the women and asking her if he could hold the Akaashi owl. Akaashi breathed a sigh of relief as she came over and coaxed the owl to hop off onto her arm, ready to be held by the man grinning far too widely and enjoying himself far too much.

About an hour later, Akaashi sat on the carpet a few feet away from Kuroo, watching the sight before him in quiet wonder.  
  
After their trip to the owl cafe, Kuroo had led him to another – not a place where they could sit down and have a drink over peaceful conversation, but a room filled with meowing, purring, fluffy felines.  
  
Unlike the owls who – except for the one or two willing to hop onto arms and shoulders of visitors – were generally disinterested, the cats came to crawl all over their visitors.  
  
Or rather, one particular visitor.  
  
“Kuroo-san.”  
  
“Akaashi.”  
  
“You do realise you have over half the residents of this cafe curled up in your lap, in your arms, on your shoulder and within your general vicinity.”  
  
Kuroo looked up from stroking the black bundle sleeping in the crook of his arm. “I’m glad you said it, I suspected something, but I didn’t want to sound melodramatic.”  
  
“Is this an ability all Nekoma graduates possess, or is it just you?”  
  
“I’ve seen a couple of cats trail after Kenma, and Kai used to attract strays on his way home from school. Kind of ironic for me though, considering I like dogs more.”  
  
“We should have gone to a dog cafe—”  
  
Kuroo shrugged and received a mewl of protest from the ginger tabby (Mocha? Monaka?) resting on his shoulder; he stroked its head with his finger in apology. “I wanted to see how well you do with cats.”  
  
Akaashi looked around at the empty space surrounding him. “Evidently not as well as you do.”  
  
“You haven’t even tried picking one up – here, this little guy’s quiet, try cuddling him.”

Over another hour passed and Akaashi waited outside on the third floor of Sunshine City, leaning by the wall to watch the never-ending drift of cars and people. It was sweltering compared to the air-conditioned rooms of the cafes and he could feel sweat beading on his nose and dampening his hairline, but the sunlight was welcome on his chilled skin. Kuroo had disappeared off to buy them cold drinks (the sunlight may have been welcome but it wasn’t kind, and they needed something cold to take the edge off the heat), and Akaashi guessed he would be back soon—  
  
“Here you go – your long-awaited drink.”  
  
Kuroo appeared beside him, offering him the cup in his right hand decorated with a plaster around the tip of his index finger.  
  
Akaashi reached out with his left, thin red lines angrily slashed across the back. He took the transparent cup filled with milky-green liquid and brought it to eye level for inspection.

“...Kuroo-san. What did you get me?”  
  
“An iced matcha latte. Which I’m now thinking wasn’t the right choice – sorry, you like nanohana so I assumed you’d want something Japanese style—”  
  
“It’s fine, I don’t dislike it—”  
  
The cup was whisked out of his hand and replaced with one that held a dark brown liquid.  
  
“I like both,” Kuroo said, taking a sip.  
  
Akaashi looked down at his new drink. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  
  
They drank under the glare of the sun, Akaashi leaning over the wall, Kuroo leaning against.  
  
“Well, I had fun even if it didn’t work out.”  
  
Akaashi looked sharply to Kuroo. “Why are you assuming it didn’t work out?”  
  
Kuroo raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at him. “Did it? I got bitten by Akaashi, the friendliest owl in the cafe, and you got scratched by a cat named Kurorin. Everything seems to be telling us we’re – what’s that word you like using? _Incompatible_.”  
  
The signs were certainly there. But even as he watched Kuroo yelp as the owl snapped at his finger, or the black cat determinedly struggle and resist being pulled away from the warmth of Kuroo’s arms, Akaashi had to admit he found the day fun. He was _finding_ it fun, because he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end just yet.  
  
“We haven’t tried the most important test, Kuroo-san.”  
  
Kuroo managed only half his name before Akaashi leaned forward and pressed their lips together.  
  
It was an odd combination, the sharp bitterness of beans roasted and ground, and milled dried leaves sweetened with milk. The taste took some getting used to, but as each stroke of their tongues spread and blended the flavours together Akaashi grew to enjoy the taste – or maybe that was just him discovering the taste of Kuroo, warm and mellow as a summer sunset.  
  
Slowly Akaashi pulled away from a sample of what might be ahead should he decide to test his patience.  
  
“Akaashi.” Kuroo licked his lips; Akaashi wanted nothing more than to lick them himself. “I’m a man of science. And you’re a man of reason. So rationally speaking, we should probably do that a few more times – for accuracy’s sake – and if you’re happy with the results we could go grab a bite to eat.”  
  
Akaashi tried to keep his face as straight as possible.  
  
“Kuroo-san. I would be very much on board with that idea.”

A photograph rolled up onto the screen and Akaashi stopped scrolling.  
  
He was sitting up on the futon, showered and refreshed after the unforeseen events of the day, relaxing in shorts and t-shirt under the weak breeze blowing from the creaking air conditioner. He had been browsing through his feed to see what Bokuto had posted – snaps from his farewell party and the departure of his homeland (still too early for the arrival at his new destination). They were broken up by a shot of Sawamura’s lunch and the hoard of limited edition gacha Nishinoya and Tanaka accumulated at the airport—  
  
And then it popped up.  
  
Two hands, loosely entwined against the dark-grey of the pavement, one with a plaster around the index finger, the other with scratch marks along the back.  
  
That by itself wasn’t the issue. It was the following caption that had him frowning.   
  
_Nothing like a bit of rough and tumble on a date – Akaashi’s a wild one ;)_  
  
The string of comments ranged from polite (Sawamura and Washio with their one-worded, one-exclamation-marked congratulations) to excited (Bokuto, Komi and Oikawa with their keymashes, emojis and emoticons) to doubtful (Yaku, Konoha and Daishou all with similar remarks that Akaashi would never go all the way on the first date and definitely not to someone like Kuroo) to unimpressed (Kozume’s ellipses) to irrelevant (Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stop hijacking other people’s posts).  
  
Akaashi started typing.  
  
_I see you decided to forgo accuracy for humour._  
  
He hit ‘post’.  
  
“I don’t know, I’d say it’s pretty accurate considering how you were about an hour ago,” Kuroo said into his left ear.  
  
(It should be mentioned that Akaashi was currently in Kuroo’s apartment, having agreed to Kuroo’s invitation before the question was even finished.)  
  
They had been sitting like this for some time now, Kuroo clutching onto Akaashi like he might a pillow, chin on his shoulder and face buried in his neck, as he watched Akaashi flick through his phone.  
  
Akaashi pulled back a little to get a look of Kuroo’s expression, and he could just about make out a smile without any of the usual concealed meanings, content as a cat sated on cream—  
  
Which, Akaashi realised, was not quite the comparison he should have come up with when it conjured up images of what they – and specifically Kuroo – had been doing earlier.  
  
Feeling his face heat up, he quickly returned his attention to his phone.  
  
“I would hardly call what we did wild.”  
  
“Oh? And what’s your idea of wild?”  
  
Akaashi ignored the bait that would lead to eventual teasing. He refreshed his feed and a new comment popped up—  
  
_I take it back, Akaashi went all the way. I’ve got this weird, newfound respect for you, Kuroo._  
  
How did Konoha even know?  
  
Kuroo shifted; the ‘something hard’ Akaashi had been feeling for the past ten minutes rubbed suggestively against his back.  
  
“Going for round two would be wild,” the demon on his shoulder murmured.  
  
Akaashi exhaled a sigh frayed around the edges.  
  
“Kuroo-san, you’re—”  
  
“Incorrigible?”  
  
“No—”  
  
“A metaphorical _and_ literal pain in the ass?”  
  
“_No—_”  
  
“Making me reconsider our incompatibility?”  
  
Akaashi made a move at that statement. Kuroo started to unravel his arms but Akaashi stopped him by placing his hands and holding him still. Kuroo got the message and instead loosened his hold, enough for Akaashi to turn and seat himself on his lap; he rested his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, pressed himself close against his body.  
  
“I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job of convincing you the first time round if that’s the impression I’m still giving off to you.”  
  
A smirk began to spread slowly across Kuroo’s face.  
  
“Guess you’d better try and convince me again.”  
  
The corner of Akaashi’s lips curled.  
  
“I guess I better had.”


End file.
